Jumping the Queue
by rhymeswithmonth
Summary: People have been saying that Justin was too young for years. It hadn't bothered Brian until now.
1. Chapter 1

"You're too young."

"People have been telling you that for years and it's never bothered you before."

"Jesus fucking Christ don't joke about this."

"Just calm the hell down then Brian, and stop stomping around in there, you're not helping this headache."

That seemed to get through to him and an instant later Brian was on the couch beside him, hand going, as it so often did, to the place above his left ear where bone and metal plate had healed just slightly uneven. He'd been bluffing, trying to get Brian to quit pacing, but the familiar stroke of fingers over the scars was lovely, and Justin couldn't help but lean into it. They sat like that for a time, while Brian's erratic breathing evened out, and the muscles of his body visibly loosened. Eventually he sagged, drained into the cushions, hand gripping Justin's hair once, not too roughly, before sliding away. Out of the corner of his eye Justin could see him tip his head back and rub both palms over his face.

"They said that they'll do everything they can Brian, Dr Richards is the best in the state, if not all of the east coast. If anyone can do this, he can."

"I know, I heard them, I was there."

"Then getting yourself worked up like this isn't going to help, you need to stop worrying."

"Stop worrying?" Brian jumped back to his feet and resumed his previous circuit from sofa to bookcase to window, "How can you ask me to stop worrying? They said-"

"They_ said_ that nothing is certain. And it isn't. So would you please sit still for more than thirty seconds so that we may have a rational discussion?"

Brian halted directly in front of him, glaring over the coffee table. "What the hell is there to discuss? Do you know what that fucking pamphlet said? The one that wonder Doc gave me?" Brian sneered and jerked his arms up, fingers crooking in midair quotations, "_Coping with Grief and Loss_" he cooed mockingly, "_understanding the grieving process._ Step one: throw away this fucking waste of paper."

"Brian."

"It was so full of bullshit! _Facing the loss of a loved one can be very painful._ Understatement of the goddamn freaking century!"

"Brian."

"It was full of shit about therapy and support groups, talking about _turning to faith_!"

"Brian."

"There was this fucked up analogy about a roller coaster, ups and downs and freaking rainbow cotton-candy puke. I don't even fucking know."

"Will you shut the hell up for a minute!" yelling really did send a jolt of pain through Justin's skull, and he gritted his teeth against the flood of nausea that accompanied it. Without fully intending to he'd risen, the patchwork quilt the Debbie had made for them sliding to pile over his socked feet. "Don't you think I'm terrified enough without your bullshit? Can't you just let me pretend for a second that this isn't happening?"

Brian's brows angled dramatically over his eyes, lips thinning furiously, "You should be!" he spat, "You should be scared out of your fucking mind! This isn't something that we can just ignore and hope it goes away! _Pretending_ won't help."

"It'll help me." he replied softly, almost too softly to hear over the murmur of the TV across the room. He'd flicked it on almost immediately after walking through the door, while Brian was still taking off his shoes, in a desperate attempt to normalize the situation. Unfortunately it had landed on some sort of hospital drama, lines of uniform beds full of unrealistically good-looking patients glowed at them from the flat-screen.

Brian's face crumpled inward and he looked so defeated that Justin felt his own features soften and he stepped around the table to take his face between his hands. Though he kept his eyes determinedly downcast, Justin could still see the glimmer of tears nestled in the corners. "Oh sweetheart." he sighed, stroking the soft skin below Brian's eyes.

"Don't fuckin' call me that." Brian muttered automatically, such an instinctive response that Justin would have been concerned if he _hadn't_ said it. But he contradicted the words by leaning forward to press their forheads together, exhaling a warm gust into the narrow space between them. "This wasn't the plan."

"What plan?"

Brian shifted uncomfortably but didn't move away. "Just...the plan. The way things were supposed to go."

Justin pulled away back just so much that he could look at Brian without crossing his eyes, and let his hands fall to rest on his shoulders, rubbing small circles into his chest. "It's gone okay so far," Brian rambled on, "With Vic and then Carl and Debbie and Ben. But this fucks everything up. It's not your turn, it's Blake's. Or Hunter's, or even mine. It's so typical of you, just cutting in like this."

Justin could feel his eyes widen in horror. "Brian!" he yelped, trying to jerk fully away, but hands closed around his wrists, holding him fast. "You can't seriously be telling me that you've mapped out what order we're going to _die_ in! That's...that's...!" he shook his head, utterly lost for words.

"No _listen_ to me. It wasn't supposed to be you. You were supposed to outlive all of us, forever our youthful little Justin. When I meet my inevitable demise in the predictably spectacular bang, you'd keep on shining, get yourself a hot, young piece of ass to last you until your expiration at the ripe old age of one-hundred and twenty." Brian delivered the little speech laughingly, but his voice broke more than once, and the muscle in his jaw was twitching spastically. The hands clutching at Justin's were shaking. His disgust dissipated instantly.

Once again he dragged Brian down onto the sofa, this time curling up around him. He scratched lightly through the silver hair at his temple. Because of course Brian Kinney did not go _grey_ he _silvered_. The rest of those famously roguish locks had dulled slightly with the years, but so far he'd retained an impressive darkness with just a little attractive gradient of silver along his cheekbones. There were days that Justin envied him, his own head had been streaked thickly with snowy white since he turned forty-five, although it was barely discernible amung the blond. Most of the time, however, he just found it ridiculously sexy.

"You know what," he said slowly, trying to at once sooth and get his point across, "I think that this is exactly right."

"Fucking hell-"

"_Because_," Justin slid his arm smoothly around Brian's waist, holding him securely against him. "Because you know what? I couldn't. I couldn't do that, move on, be with someone else."

"Bull-"

"Don't be a dick. It's true. If..._when_ you die, what the hell would I do with myself? I'd be a complete mess!"

"_Bullshit_. Your ass may not be as perky as it once was but there is a whole plethora of baby fags out there looking for a sugar daddy to set them up nice. Trust me, I speak from experience."

"Yes so I've heard." he rolled his eyes against Brian's neck, pressing a tiny kiss against the straining tendon, "But I couldn't. Without you I wouldn't know what to do."

"Oh for fuck's sake."

"I know. I sound like a princess. But I'm just stating a fact. Since the night I met you, my life has revolved around you. Getting you to fuck me, getting you to keep fucking me, convincing you to let me move in, keep you from kicking me out. Even when we weren't together it was you. When is Brian going to visit, when will I save up enough sick days to come back to Pittsburgh. Since I was seventeen Brian, that's thirty-eight fucking years, you've been the centre of my universe."

For once Brian stayed silent, apparently willing to stifle the complaints that always popped up whenever Justin got too 'sappy' for his taste. He sat as still as a statue while Justin twisted his fingers into the fabric of his shirt. "No," he murmured sadly, closing his eyes and willing the cushions to swallow them up, "It's better to just avoid the issue entirely."

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Justin allowed himself to relax against the firm chest, lids growing heavy as Brian absently massaged the ache out of his skull...for a little while at least. "Fifty percent," Justin started to say, but his face was mushed against against Brian's collar bone and the words came out garbled. He groaned and shifted, tried again. "Fifty percent isn't bad odds Brian."

"Not bad for a coin toss. I think this is a little more important than that Sunshine." Brian whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair off of his brow, "You're too important."

"We don't have a choice. It's something Brian, it's more than most get."

"We should have been more careful. Smoked less, drank less, done fewer drugs, not partied all night."

"You're trying to blame my cancer on staying up passed my bedtime. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Still. You didn't take care of yourself. If only-"

"The doctor said, there's no way to prevent it. It wouldn't have mattered what we did, it's just bad luck."

"Fuck I know." Brian croaked hoarsely, "I hate that part. The helplessness."

"Tell me about it."

"This is payback for all those times that _I_ broke _your_ heart isn't it."

"Bad luck," Justin repeated adamantly "Means that you can't blame yourself." he grunted and untangled himself, tried to stand but the task was made difficult by the dull aching of his entire body. Brian rose smoothly and grabbed his arm to help. "Gus and the girls will be here any minute." Justin said as they walked to the kitchen, hand-in-hand. "Can you...stay relaxed when I tell them? I don't want them more upset than they have to be."

"Of course." Brian grumbled, reaching out to hook a dollop of dip from the tray on the counter. He stuck the finger into his mouth and sucked it clean, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and popped it out with an obscene noise. "I'll be on my very bestest behaviour...when _we_ tell them."


	2. Chapter 2

Didn't originally plan on continuing this but this ended up happening. I definitly don't intend on writing about what happens in the end - whether Justin survives or not, even I'm not sure - but I might do more snippets.

* * *

"So how's dad taking it?" Gus asked, accepting the beer that Justin pulled out of the fridge for him.

"Oh, you know Brian. He's being...combative."

The younger man snorted and leaned against the island counter, ankles crossed casually. Justin would have joined him but the excitement of the day was catching up to him, his energy flagging, so instead he opted for a seat at the breakfast table. "Yeah that's him alright. Combative toward a natural phenomena." Gus took a long swig, smacking his lips together appreciatively. Justin made a face at the poor manners and Gus grinned apologetically. For all that the man looked like a carbon copy of his father at his age, the abashed expression was one that Brian's features had never worn. "But he seems to be...handling it."

They both turned to look through the bay window to the backyard, where the subject of their conversation was being enthousiastically dogpiled by two fair-haired six-year olds. "He'd never slip in front of the girls." Justin said softly. The twins worshipped their grandfather, and in turn Brian loved them more fiercely than any of them ever would have expected. "He'll stay strong for the rest of the day. When you leave though, I have a feeling he'll fall apart." Justin wasn't expecting the most restful of nights.

"Jesus." Gus moaned, scrubbing at his face with his free hand. "What can I do?"

That was the hard part: how to best deal with Brian. The man was unpredictable of the best of days, responding with no discernible pattern, even after spending over half a lifetime together. Justin sipped absently at a plastic cup of lemonade that one of the girls had left half-finished on the table. "I'd say just act normally for today." he decided, "Let the girls wear him out, they're the best distraction. He doesn't want to scare them."

"Shit. How am I going to tell them? Do you want to do it?"

"No." Justin shook his head, loath to do anything that would kill the joyful scene in the yard, "Talk to Sarah first, it's up to the two of you to decide if you want them to know. It's a tough age."

Gus nodded and moved to take the seat to Justin's right, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. "I'll talk to her. It'd probably be best to wait until we know more, see how the initial treatments go. Make the call then." he paused, eyes fixed on his daughters as they darted around the small lawn. Suddenly he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Justin, burying his face in his shoulder despite the fact that he was a good half-foot taller. Justin's heart clenched and he returned the embrace, closing his eyes tightly against the threatening moisture. When he opened them again Brian in the yard had stopped chasing and was staring at them, face unreadable. Justin held his gaze over the top of Gus' head for a moment before Rosie barreled into Brian's leg, demanding attention.

Justin exhaled and kissed the crown of Gus' dark head before pulling back. "You guys know that you can call us any time you need." Gus said earnestly "For anything. Both of you. I know dad would never admit to needing help but you let me know if things go...downhill."

"Of course. I'll keep you posted."

"On _both_ of you."

"On both of us." Justin agreed, smiling wetly.

"So...who have you told?"

"Nobody, officially. Well, except for mother. We visited her while we were at the hospital- right after the appointment."

"How did she respond?"

"Like usual." Justin smiled sadly, "Blinked a lot, kissed my cheek, then asked Brian why her steak was taking so long." a strained chuckle clawed its way out of his throat without his permission. "Then we played cards. She told me all about my first day of school, as if it'd just happened yesterday; she showed me my own baby photos, proud as anything."

"That's sweet."

"It is. Each and every time. I'm going to dinner with Molly and Josh tomorrow."

"Is dad going with you?"

"He would, I'm sure, if I asked. But I called Michael earlier. They're going bowling."

"So Michael..."

"He knows a bit. Brian told him that I was experiencing...troubles. That we suspected it could be something serious." The deaths of his stepfather, mother and husband in the space of two years had just about destroyed their friend. Credit to pulling him back together rested heavily on Brian and Hunter. Since, the two men had regained much of the closeness they'd shared in their youth, and Justin knew that Brian had been leaning on his best friend over the past few weeks while they waited for the test returns. "I expect he'll tell him everything we know. He'll pass it on to Hunter and Callie and JR and Scott, which means we'll have to rush to get to Linds and Mel before they do. We'll call Ted up at some point in the next couple day. Which only leaves-"

"Emmet." Gus whistled softly, "Lord almighty I wouldn't want to be within a hundred miles."

"I'll call ahead to warn you." Justin chuckled, "Give you time to evacuate to the country."

They nursed their respective drinks silently, watching as Brian mock-fell to the grass in defeat, immediately fell upon by the two girls. Gus stood and pushed open the sliding door to call out "Take it easy girls, Grandpa's not a trampoline. Come on back inside, Justin made cookies."

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and over the patio before the two girls flew through the door, blond hair streaming behind them like banners. Brian followed far more slowly, wincing slightly as he rose. "Well, well, sweetstuff made some sweetstuff." he smirked, closing the door behind him. He twins burst into shrill giggles, identical round cheeks already smeared with chocolate. Brian stuck his tongue out at them and ruffled Gus' hair on his way to the living room. Gus and Rosie followed at his heels, chattering away about a million different things.

"Grampa." a soft voice whispered from the vicinity of Justin's knee. He tore his eyes away from the three of them to regard the tiny blonde at his feet.

"Yes love, what is it?" The little girl pursed her lips and held out her arms imploringly. Justin's heart wobbled and he hefted the child up onto his knee.

"You're drank my juice." she whispered, pointing a crumby finger at the empty pink sippy-cup at his elbow. Justin blinked, he hadn't even been conscious of finishing it. "Sorry sweetie! Come on I'll get you some more." he plucked up the cup, scooted her gently off his lap and stood. Annie slipped her tiny fingers neatly through his and together they walked to the fridge.

Gus had never ended up calling Justin 'dad'; by the time he was a permanent enough fixture in the Kinney house, he was too old. That didn't mean that the young man didn't think of Justin as a parental figure; in fact, it had been a point of great pride throughout elementary school that he'd had twice as many mommies and daddies as the other kids. But Justin had always been Justin, half father half older brother.

The day twins had been born, Gus had placed the first tiny bundle in Brian's arms and it had been a blast from the past to stand in the brightly-lit natal ward watching the tender glow in his eyes when he held the baby as if she might shatter. And then Gus had offered the other baby to Justin and grinned in that new-father way and said earnestly "Would you like to hold your granddaughter?" and Justin had fallen just as hard for the little girls as Brian had.

There had never been a doubt in Rosie and Annie's minds about who Justin was. Justin and Brian were their grandpas, equally and entirely. Brian had even said one day when the girls were toddlers, that they looked more like Justin than Brian with their golden hair and fair skin.

It was the one thing that hurt the most, the chance that he might not be there to watch them grow, to see the wonderful adults they'd surly become. Anything else he could stand, but this was agony. He poured the fresh glass of lemonade for Annie and slipped her an extra cookie, winking at her conspiratorially. She dimpled back at him, stuffing the sweet into her mouth and chewing as fast as her little jaw could go, nearly choking when she chugged her lemonade to wash the evidence away.


End file.
